This past weekend, I asked Nolan if he’d like to come with me to Madison for a few days. We would be staying a few blocks from the Children’s Museum and he and I could hang out and do whatever we wanted. Grumpa could even come to.

His response to me was an immediate “Yes! This is going to be the best weekend EVER!”

Mind you, the weekend after Christmas, our whole family went to the Kalahari. A fabulous indoor water park in Wisconsin Dells. There he bravely tackled every water slide he was big enough to go on, spent hours in the wave pool and lazy river, and got to stay up late every night. That too was “the best weekend EVER!”

Now rewind to the week before Thanksgiving. Nolan accompanied his Grumpa to visit some family friends in Indiana. At that time, he met two new friends with more Legos than he could have ever imagined, and got to play video games to his heart’s content. Again, “the best weekend EVER!”

While in Madison, his enthusiasm was overwhelming. He tirelessly explored the Children’s Museum and experienced ice skating for the very first time. We hung out with his Aunt Julia and Uncle Danny, and once again he got to stay up late every night.

When it was time to go home, he cried as if his world was coming to an end. To him it was. Because at five, there’s no room for thoughts of what comes next. That moment is all there is.

None of these weekends were particularly extravagant, but Nolan saw them as epic adventures.

Oh to be five again. It’s my favorite age. Every little experience is a moment to be savored. Why are we always so desperate to grow up?

When you grow up, you forget your sense of wonder. You start comparing yourself to others, and inevitably, someone is always doing something more exciting or has something cooler. So instead of living in the moment, you’re waiting for the next hoping it will be better.

This weekend, I tried to see the world through Nolan’s eyes.

At the Children’s Museum, he approached every display and activity with  amazement. Each child he encountered was a potential new friend despite their skin color, if they were boy or girl, or what they were wearing.

After Uncle Danny helped him conquer an initial fear of the ice, his joy while skating was palpable. The frosty air had no affect on him despite his wind-kissed cheeks. His sparkling eyes, broad grin, and bubbling belly laughs kept me warm too. To my surprise, I wasn’t longing to get out of the cold. I was actually living in the moment and not wishing for the next!

What would it be like to live every day that way? To put away the insecurities, prejudices, and busyness? To approached each moment as we did when we were five?

I don’t know, but I want to give it a try.